In an apocalyptic snowstorm, an unbearable, prophetic wind cries out to Cassandra! The shadow of his coat is held together tightly, and with a penitent, bowed head, the vulnerable man stubbornly defies the restless, shackled elements of nature! In a self-limiting, exhibitionist world, the worker stretches his aching, lustful fibers like a worn-out, junk sweater! They also bleed into a rarely healing, constantly producing past wound; he kicks in silent silence, his sigh sighing softly among the bone limbs of trees, petal-moonlight swaying! Gray, melancholy shadows carve themselves into their flesh many times! Its color-worn, twilight-lipped wilting, grimacing grimaces, sneaky, little betrayals surround it like devilish cages-dreamy desires! - They flash and kiss, multiplying every day at diva-goddesses parade-***** parties!
 
Man turns to himself and makes an account. It contemplates like a vision image. Fear is also gradually impoverishing in him; and he blows on everyone without petty reasons, and he is angry at the retreat! - The Lack of our ruins started to become empty too! Being, as a soaring matchstick memory, itself is often extinct! The balmy-proud night would still deceive itself, but the half-hearted and hesitant twilight aches through the dilute darkness!
 
The wounded will soon perish! “Tiny light mutants dance all the way in the enchanted spells of eyes like interrogating like a collapsed pit, like the crying eyes of a sinless scapegoat! The minute-moment of contemplation of being is resting tachycardically!